Ghosts
by McAbbyAddict
Summary: How can a simple question change two lives? Prequel to 'Downfall'
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This is the prequel to 'Downfall'; and as frustrating as I know it can be, every chapter I've written so far is short. Sorry!**

**This story was kinda inspired by a Rick Price song called "The Ghost of You and Me"- I've posted the chorus here, and I promise it will make sense later. The song shows my age a little, lol.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story, they remain property of Belisarius Productions**

* * *

><p><em>I didn't mean to fall in love with you<em>

_And baby there's a name for what you put me through_

_It isn't love, its robbery_

_I'm sleeping with the ghost of you and me_

'Ghost of You and Me'- Rick Price

* * *

><p>McGee knew the instant he asked the question that it had been a mistake. Abby stared at him, apparently frozen to the spot. He waited for a reply, hoping she'd surprise him. When it became evident that she wasn't going to answer, he sighed and got back to his feet. Momentarily he was glad that he hadn't decided on a public spot. His thoughts were in turmoil; hurt, sorrow, a little anger, and a sense of loss filled him.<p>

Something of the devastation he felt must have shown on his face because suddenly she moved towards him a little. "Timmy..."

He shrugged her off. "Just... just forget it, Abs. I'll see you tomorrow." He let himself out of her apartment, needing to be alone. He drove slowly home, thinking about what had passed between them.

After Ziva's capture by Salim, and the team's rescue of her from Somalia, there'd been a change in Abby. She'd been quieter than usual; McGee had worried about his friend. Then she'd turned up at his apartment unexpectedly one night, about a month after their return from the desert. She told him about her worry that their rescue mission was a suicide mission; how relieved she'd been when he came back mostly unscathed. And to his wonder, she'd told him that she loved him. He'd been afraid to respond at first, the memory of her comparing her feelings for him to her feelings for puppies still etched vividly on his mind. But she'd convinced him that she meant it, the way he'd always loved her.

That was a year ago. Their relationship had grown in strength and depth until he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Amazingly, she felt the same way.

Or so he thought, until an hour ago when he asked her to marry him... and she didn't answer. He knew he'd taken her by surprise; they'd never really discussed marriage. And he knew that Abby was one of the most commitment-phobic people alive. But they'd been in a committed relationship for a year; it had just felt... right... to him.

As he got ready for bed he told himself not to give up hope. Not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This story is getting sadder by the chapter; sorry about that. With a bit of luck, the next chapter will be longer. F.**

As the week went on, he felt that hope start to fade. Everything seemed normal, at least on the surface. The MCRT had its usual caseload; there never seemed to be a shortage of crime. Abby was at least a good approximation of her usual bubbly self- with the rest of the team. With McGee, she was edgy and irritable, and it got progressively worse by the day.

When she refused his help in front of Tony, McGee knew the comments would start. It was an extremely complicated IP track and trace through numerous encrypted channels; the kind of thing she'd usually ask his help with, especially as she was guaranteed to have Gibbs breathing down her neck for the results. He handed her the laptop; Tony asked her if she needed him to leave McGee with her. She shook her head. "Nope; I got this one." Tony shot her an odd look. "Are you sure? Cause Gibbs said-"

She interrupted him. "I don't need help, Tony."

Tony glanced at McGee; he shook his head slightly, then they turned and headed to the elevator. Once they were out of Abby's earshot, Tony looked at McGee. "What did you do?" McGee rolled his eyes. "Don't ask."

...

McGee wanted to go downstairs and visit Abby, doubting that she'd talk to him at home. But they'd tried their hardest to keep things professional while they were at work; otherwise they'd breach Gibbs' tacit permission to break Rule 12, and McGee didn't want to think about the consequences of that.

As it was, they were kept too busy for most of the week for him to find the time to go and see her when it wasn't work related. They pulled an all-nighter one night; by the time they could leave for the rest of the week, Abby was already gone.

He didn't honestly know what to say to her, even if she would talk to him. How could he bring it up? Maybe he'd made a mistake leaving the way he did, but he knew that if he'd stayed, he would have pushed her for an answer, any answer, and they would have ended up fighting. But he'd expected some sort of a reaction other than blank silence, and now he didn't know what to do. How did you ask someone why they'd ignored the biggest question a man could ever ask a woman? And how did you ask why they were angry about it?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This story is moving faster than I anticipated; maybe I'll keep it under 10 chapters after all :) I've got a few more chapters written after this one, so I may actually get to post a bit more often. Yay!**

Some days were worse than others. Some days she'd look at him and he'd catch the glimmer of warmth in her eyes and he'd think that maybe, they'd be ok. And other days she'd be so withdrawn and distant that he just wanted to scream. Lately, the bad days had far outnumbered the good; she was completely avoiding him this week, three weeks after he'd proposed. He wished he never had; he knew it had been a mistake from the moment he'd asked her. He just didn't know how big a mistake it had been. He'd given up wishing for her to answer him-it was obvious what her answer was, anyway. Now he just wanted Abby back, the way they'd been before, when he'd been sure she loved him.

...

It happened on one of the worst days.

Tony and Ziva had been called away by Gibbs as soon as they pulled the truck back into the evidence garage, leaving McGee to take the crates up to Abby. He used to jump at the chance to spend a few stolen minutes with her; now he gathered the crates up bad temperedly. He was sick of seeing that cold, hard look every time she looked at him, and it had been there in spades when he took her a Caf-Pow that morning.

Her expression clouded over as he entered her lab and set the crates down on their usual table. She snapped at him

"Be careful of that table; it's broken. I've asked maintenance when they're going to come and fix it, but typically they can't give me an answer."

He didn't know why he said it, but a little of the pain and bitterness he'd been feeling came to the surface at her words; before he could stop himself, he replied "Yeah, because not getting an answer must be really frustrating."

She spun towards him. "What's that supposed to mean, McGee?"

"Oh, come on, Abby, you know exactly what I mean. I asked you to marry me, and you didn't say a word."

"I didn't know what to say, McGee."

"Anything! But you always do this!" He was blazingly angry suddenly, waving his hands around as he yelled while she paced up and down beside the rickety bench. "One hint of anything permanent and you turn into the ice queen!" He didn't mean to say it, but it was too late and he was too angry to think about what he was saying. Now she was furious too, hurling back at him "And you're always so damn impatient, McGee! You want the white picket fence and the house in the suburbs so bad you can taste it! Tell me, how many women have you scared off?"

Unable to stand it anymore, he turned to walk out. He was never sure from then on who bumped the bench hard enough to do it, but one of them did. A test tube rack toppled and fell to the floor. The sound of glass shattering instantly drove the anger away, replacing it with pure horror. He looked down, knowing what the noise was, seeing what he'd hoped he wouldn't. Almost simultaneously there was a piercing whistle from the doorway. He didn't have to look up to know who made it.

They'd done the unthinkable. They'd destroyed evidence. And Gibbs had seen it.


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs looked from the strange coloured patch of fluid on the floor to his offending team members. McGee glanced at him, then wished he hadn't. He'd never seen Gibbs so angry before; not even when he'd failed to bring Sarah in.

"Conference room. Now" he ground out, looking from McGee to Abby. Beside him, he heard Abby's audible gulp; she'd rarely been in trouble with Gibbs before, and there was no escaping that they were in big trouble.

She completely ignored him as they made their way up to the conference room and sat down to wait for Gibbs. From her crossed arms and rigid posture, he could tell she was still angry. They sat for a few minutes in silence before she spoke.

"This is your fault, McGee."

Stung, he responded "My fault?"

"Yes! If you hadn't come down to the lab and picked a fight-"

He interrupted her "Picked a fight?" He went to deny it, then realised he had. He'd started this fight, even if he hadn't meant to. She carried on talking over him like she hadn't heard him. "I've never mishandled evidence before, McGee." It occurred to him that that was she was most angry about. The evidence. Not what they'd been fighting about. Not that their relationship was breaking down, day by day. The evidence. With a kind of horrified realisation, he knew that it was over.

Gibbs entered the room at that moment, fury written all over his face. In a strange way, the shock of knowing that he'd irretrievably lost Abby insulated him from the worst of Gibbs' tirade. He still heard every word, but it was like they were being said to someone else, someone completely separate to him. Dimly, he heard Gibbs banning him from the lab and gave an internal snort. He wasn't likely to be willingly spending time down there in the near future.

Gibbs leaned forward over the table at his most intimidating. "Do I make myself clear?" he asked Abby and McGee. Dully McGee nodded, not sure what he was agreeing to.

He sat at the table for a long while after Abby and Gibbs left the room, too drained to move.

...

McGee was restless. He wandered aimlessly around his apartment, thinking incessantly about the fight that afternoon. As much as he hated it, there was only one real choice open to him. Shrugging back into his jacket, he picked up his keys and left the apartment. He needed to talk to Gibbs.

Knowing full well that his boss never locked his doors, he didn't bother to knock, pushing open the front door and entering the house. He'd never been here uninvited before; he guessed that Gibbs would probably be in the basement, working on yet another boat. He made his way through the house, settling partway down the steps. He knew that Gibbs was aware of his presence, though the older man didn't say anything. After a short time, Gibbs silently emptied one of the many jars of nails, refilling it with bourbon and handing it to McGee. He took it with a nod and sipped at it, hoping the neat spirit would take away some of the chill he felt inside. Gibbs quietly resumed his sanding, the rhythmic sound soothing.

"I asked her to marry me." McGee announced presently. A momentary pause in sanding was the only outward sign of surprise from Gibbs. "When?"

"A month ago."

"Ah." There was a wealth of understanding in the single syllable; McGee knew he didn't need to explain what had passed between him and Abby, not to this man.

"We can't even work together anymore." He fell silent again, lost in his thoughts. Finally reaching the decision he knew had to make, he continued. "I've loved her for seven years, Boss." He took a gulp of the bourbon, not registering that it had gone stale in the jar. "I'm done. I'll be lodging my transfer papers in the morning."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Ok, this chapter is a bit less dramatic than the previous, but it is necessary. Hope you like it anyway. F.**

McGee went in to work early the next morning, hoping to see Director Vance and get his transfer paperwork sorted out before the rest of the team came in for the day. He didn't feel like explaining why he was asking for a transfer to Tony and Ziva, at least not straight away. He wanted to know where he was going before he told them; hopefully, that way they wouldn't try and talk him out of it.

He didn't want to leave Gibbs' team; being a field agent was what he'd always wanted to do, and there was no better team leader than Gibbs. But he knew he couldn't stay at headquarters and have to see Abby every day.

Vance's secretary wasn't at her desk when he reached the Director's office. Maybe he wasn't in yet? McGee took a chance and knocked softly on the office door, relieved to hear a faint response from inside.

"Enter."

Vance was sitting at his desk, apparently intent on some paperwork. He glanced up as McGee entered the room.

"Agent McGee. I hope you're not here to tell me you've been hacking into somewhere you shouldn't."

McGee thought quickly. Technically, he had, but no more than usual, and he'd done it on Gibbs' orders. He figured Vance didn't need to know about that, especially as he hadn't gotten caught. He shook his head. "No sir."

"So what do you need, Agent McGee?"

"I'd like to request a transfer, Director."

Vance looked surprised at that, leaning backwards in his chair. "It was my understanding that you enjoyed working on Agent Gibbs' team, Agent McGee."

"I do, sir."

"There's an opening on Agent Balboa's team-"

"I'd prefer out of the Yard, Director."

"Why?"

"For- for personal reasons, sir." He could feel his face flushing slightly red and hoped the Director wouldn't press the issue. He didn't really want to explain that he'd been sleeping with a co-worker and it had ended badly. From the assessing look that Vance gave him however, he got the feeling that there was very little that went on in the building that the Director didn't already know.

"I see." Vance's tone was dry, partly confirming McGee's suspicions. "Have you discussed this with Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes sir."

Vance gave him another assessing look. Apparently seeing what he was looking for, he merely responded "Ok, I'll have transfer options to you by the end of the day."

...

Dismissed, McGee made his way slowly down the stairs back to the squad room. His meeting with Vance hadn't taken as long as he'd anticipated; the only other occupant of the bullpen was Gibbs. From the look Gibbs gave him, he knew that he was well aware of why he'd been upstairs, though he made no comment. Soon Tony and Ziva arrived, and they got to work. It occurred to McGee with a pang of sadness that this was the last case he would work with the MCRT.

...

In one of the quirks that came with working major cases, they were swamped with evidence and leads for the rest of the day, and McGee wasn't able to check his emails until Gibbs dismissed them for the night. When he did, he found the email he'd been waiting on. Vance had sent him two options; one was based out of San Diego, the other out of Norfolk. As he read through the descriptions of both roles, he felt eyes on him and looked up to find Gibbs watching him from across the bullpen.

"Where?"'

"San Diego or Norfolk."

"And?"

"Well, San Diego is more senior... but there's no field work. I dunno. The Director's given me 24 hours."

"Uh-huh. You haven't told Tony and Ziva." It was a statement, not a question.

"Well, no, not yet Boss. I want to get things figured out first."

"And Abby?"

McGee heaved a sigh.

Gibbs stood and picked up his gear. "You gotta tell her sometime, McGee."

...

McGee sat at his desk in the darkened squad room, thinking about Gibbs' departing words. The Boss was right, as usual. He had to tell Abby he was leaving, and he had to do it before she found out from another source. He owed her that, at least. Which meant he had to do it tonight; once he'd let Vance know his decision, it would quickly become scuttlebutt, if it hadn't already.

Sighing once more, he picked up the phone to call the lab, then put it down again. This wasn't really a conversation that could be had over the telephone. He picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the elevator. He felt slightly guilty as he punched the button that would take him to Abby's lab; leaving or not, he was still banned from that part of the building.

As he walked down the short hallway to the lab, he could see that it was dark and quiet; Abby must have already left for the night. Cursing quietly under his breath, he went back to the elevator. He really would rather have this conversation on slightly more neutral territory than her apartment.

Palmer occupied the elevator when the doors opened again. McGee politely made small talk on the ride back to the main floor. As they exited, Palmer stopped him. "Were you looking for Abby?" At McGee's nod, he continued "I think she went down to the evidence garage."

"Thanks, Palmer."

...

The garage was mostly dark, but he could see a small patch of light coming from the evidence lockup. He made his way towards it, knowing he couldn't put off the inevitable.

She was seated, looking for something in the evidence register in the light of a desk lamp. He stopped a few steps away.

"Abby?"

She looked up, and for a second he could have almost sworn there was a softening of her expression as she saw him. But then the hard look was back, and he told himself it must have been a trick of the light.

"What do you want, McGee?"

At her snappy tone, he was tempted to tell her to forget it and let her find out with the rest of the team. But hurt or not, he loved this woman, and he had to tell her himself.

"Do you mind if I sit? This could take a while..."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter is rahter sad- I was actually in tears writing the end of it. I haven't decided yet if this is the last chapter or whether I'm continuing it up to the beginning of 'Downfall'. Let me know what you think :) F.**

After his conversation with Abby, McGee went home and tried to concentrate on the choices Vance had given him. He only had until 5pm tomorrow to make a decision; and from what he'd skimmed over at work, it was going to be a matter of figuring out which was the lesser of two evils. The position in San Diego was an office job, overseeing case agents. But it didn't involve any field work or real case work at all, and he wasn't sure it he could cope with being stuck in an office all the time; he'd had enough of that when he'd done his months in Cybercrimes. It was more senior than his current job, but he wasn't sure it was worth moving across the country.

The position at Norfolk was senior case agent; a few rungs up from his old job at the field office. There was a little field work involved, but he knew from experience that it would be like it was when he was a probie on Gibbs' team. Sighing, he decided to take the Norfolk job; at least he'd still be close to his family.

...

He sent Vance his decision and started packing up his possessions. He'd have to put his bigger things and pieces of furniture into storage until he found an apartment. The job at Norfolk was for an immediate start, which was what he wanted; but it didn't give him much time to get his things organised and moved.

...

In between work and packing, his last few days in Washington passed quickly, and before he knew it, it was Friday. He had to report to Norfolk on Monday morning; as they didn't have the weekend duty this week, it meant that this would be the last day he worked with the team. And he still hadn't managed to tell Tony and Ziva.

He went in a few minutes later than usual on Friday, wanting to talk to Tony and Ziva together. They were sitting at their desks, with Tony teasing Ziva about mangling yet another American idiom when he entered. He stood at the edge of the bullpen, listening to their banter for a moment. As much as Tony irritated him from time to time, he was going to miss them both.

"Tony. Tony."

Something in McGee's voice must have told the senior agent that this was serious, because he gave up teasing Ziva and turned his attention to McGee.

"What, McInterrupt?"

McGee gave him a look that clearly said not now. "I just wanted to tell you guys..." He trailed off and cleared his throat; this was harder than he'd expected. "Today's my last day with the team; I'm transferring back to Norfolk." Tony gave a snort of laughter, thinking he was joking, then quickly went silent as he took in McGee's expression. "You're... You're not joking, are you?"

McGee shook his head. "I report at 0900 on Monday."

Tony spotted Gibbs, who'd come up silently behind McGee. "You're transferring him? Because of one fight?"

McGee stopped him. "It doesn't have anything to do with Gibbs, Tony. I requested this."

Ziva gave him a knowing look. "Because of Abby, yes?"  
>McGee clenched his teeth against the pain the simple question evoked for a moment before replying. "I can't" he started, having to swallow hard against the lump in his throat before continuing. "I can't stay here. Not with things the way they are." He knew Ziva would be the more understanding of the two, she'd made this decision before herself, but Tony wouldn't meet his eyes. He wanted to tell them how much they meant to him, and how much he'd miss them, but he had a feeling they already knew.<p>

...

He'd never remember how he got through that day. It seemed one minute he was telling the team, and Ducky and Palmer, and then suddenly it was over and he was packing up his desk. He'd gotten two cartons from the supply room for the purpose; methodically he carefully placed everything he was taking in the boxes, pausing nostalgically at some items. Photos of Tony and Gibbs and Ziva, and Kate- mostly culled from crime scene photos- and Abby. The Venetian Snare sticker that had been clipped to his wall for years now. The ring he'd bought Abby. He'd put it in his desk so he knew it was safe. Now he hesitated about putting it in the carton. He'd had it specially made, knowing that an ordinary ring just wouldn't suit Abby. He put it in his pocket. He looked through every drawer, making sure he hadn't left anything behind, then stood. Soon his desk would be cleaned and his computer wiped, returning them both to the impersonal objects they'd been 7 years ago. He picked up his boxes, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat and blink back the tears. He had one last stop.

Tony and Ziva were waiting for him by the elevator. He got a man hug from Tony and a simple "Take care of yourself, Probie" that surprised him; he'd expected more protest from Tony. He suspected that either Gibbs or Ziva had taken him aside during the day. The wordless hug from Ziva both surprised and touched him. The intensely private former Mossad officer rarely instigated hugs; this one brought the tears back to his eyes.

...

He used the elevator ride to get himself back under control as best he could. He wanted to be as calm and composed as possible for the next few minutes; not let her see how much she'd hurt him. Quietly he put his cartons down on the newly-repaired stainless steel table, knowing that she'd heard the elevator.

"What do you want, McGee?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I came to say goodbye" he said, hoping that if he spoke softly his voice wouldn't crack.

She turned slowly towards him. "So you're really going then?" Her eyes and her voice were hard; remembering how she used to look at him almost brought him to tears again.

He nodded. "I start on Monday." He pulled the ring box out of his pocket and set it on the desk next to her. "I want you to have this, Abby. It was made for you; I hope you'll wear it sometimes, and maybe remember me." He paused. "I loved you the best I could, Abs" he told her, his voice breaking despite his efforts at self control. "I guess in the end, it just wasn't enough." He turned away, knowing the threatening tears were about to fall and not wanting to humiliate himself anymore than he already had. Refusing to look back, he walked out of her lab for the last time.


End file.
